


Three Horse Open Sledge

by Ki_ru



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blitz is a dork, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Humor, It's Sweet I Promise, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, No actual threesome, Romance, Sledge needs some love, Slice of Life, Voyeurism, some other ships thrown in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: While Sledge isn't averse to advising people, he's not prepared to become the base's agony aunt in terms of relationships. Still, he helps Blitz woo Rook and the Frenchman decides he should be rewarded for his trouble. (Not in those words.)Now with spicy art!♡





	Three Horse Open Sledge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mi723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mi723/gifts).



> I wish you the happiest of birthdays, my dear♥  
> In my eternal wisdom, I bragged about being able to write a sweet Blitz/Rook fic with Sledge as protagonist and somehow fit voyeurism in there, so that's what you requested. Serves me right. I hope I did a decent job though :)

For some incomprehensible reason, people ask Sledge for advice. It’s not that he’s unqualified or unwilling, quite the opposite – sometimes he believes to be the only sane man left in Rainbow and he prides himself on his rationality, eager to attempt to tame the chaos around him. No, the problem lies in the _nature_ of issues brought before him; they’re not tactical or ethical dilemmas, no conflicts in world views.

They’re _relationship problems_.

Again, it’s not that he minds the trust the others place in him, he’s honoured and pleased they think him approachable, level-headed and dependable, it’s just… slightly awkward. Smoke is a repeat offender, he’s spent entire afternoons by Sledge’s side, simultaneously moping about the fact Mute thinks him an idiot and complaining when Sledge suggests he actively try to change his opinion. The issue is this: Mute enjoys Smoke’s antics immensely, therefore playing the joker has become the role to which he forces himself to adhere – and now Smoke is unsure if Mute would still like him if the dynamic between them shifted so drastically from friendship to something more.

To everyone but Smoke it’s painfully obvious that Mute adores him immensely and wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence if he were to ask him out in favour of snogging the living daylights out of Smoke, doubtlessly stealing his breath and what few parts of his heart remain not yet in Mute’s possession at the same time. And to everyone but Mute it’s ridiculously obvious that Smoke worships the ground on which he walks and would probably faint if he were to ask him out, delaying their inevitable snogging session needlessly. And Sledge has tried, oh did he try to convince Smoke of this, yet it seems as soon as attraction and affection are involved, people tend to become blind and throw all rational thought out the window.

This is the awkward part. Now that Sledge knows the intimate details of Smoke’s infatuation, he’s left feeling entirely powerless, watching him bumble around like the fool he is, always _accidentally_ ending up in the same room as Mute, adjusting his life around him and oblivious to the fact that the younger man does exactly the same. Theoretically, Sledge could snitch. Could pull Mute aside and cough up all the gory details Smoke confessed. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth – Smoke confided in him and betraying his trust wouldn’t feel right, he prefers not to meddle in other people’s business, especially if it’s one they need to sort out themselves. But he feels for him. Every time he sees Smoke stare after Mute forlornly, Sledge sighs inwardly.

Therefore, when _Blitz_ of all people comes up to him while he’s cooking breakfast for his team , looking lost, confused and hopeful with a distracted smile that only amorous morons wear, when Blitz approaches him and says “I need your advice”, t he only thing Sledge can think is: _Not him too_.

Blitz is his anchor. People come to Sledge when they need help, Sledge goes to Blitz when _he_ does. The German has proven a resourceful, empathetic and sensible companion, never offering his opinion lightly and managing to alleviate all of Sledge’s worries. They fight each others’ demons when they can, often just by keeping each other company, lending an ear, giving a reassuring pat on the back when walking past. Imagining this resilient, upstanding, fearless team leader being reduced to a pining mess pains him to no end and a selfish part of Sledge hopes it’s not serious or passes quickly.

It’s not that he disapproves of relationships between his colleagues, quite the opposite actually: as long as it’s healthy (meaning requited, beneficial for both parties and happy), he finds that it boosts morale and productivity, strengthens ties, has a positive impact not only on the people involved but also their surroundings. However, difficulties arise as soon as only one of these requirements isn’t met, resulting in unpleasant consequences such as unnecessary drama at best and reassignment at worst, a mess that more often than not falls to someone else to clean up. Sledge has had to do it before. He’d prefer to avoid a repeat performance.

If he had to, Sledge would be hard pressed to guess in whom Blitz is interested since the German never remarks on the female operators in a way other than perfectly professional. He openly admires Twitch’s and IQ’s technical knowledge and commends Ash on her tactical prowess, none of which sounds particularly romantic to Sledge’s ears – though he’s not one to judge. Maybe Blitz is attracted to competence. As far as he’s aware, there’s no one waiting for him and no one for whom Blitz is waiting, no high school sweetheart, no tragic lover separated from him through circumstances out of his control and he can’t see him trying to woo a country bumpkin from Hereford. So it _has_ to be one of the three.

“I’ve got time”, he says while dumping a few cans of baked beans into a pot before he switches to slicing the cleaned mushrooms, nods appreciatively when Blitz starts cutting the tomatoes in half without having been asked to. “How can I help you?”

Blitz remains mute for a few seconds, absorbed in his task and it’s a bad sign. He’s comfortable with words, no matter how solemn the topic, rarely at a loss. Whoever it is, they hit him hard. “I know you don’t like to comment on other people’s love lives -”

“I said I don’t want Smoke to ever tell me how edible he finds Mute’s arse again”, Sledge corrects immediately, “not that I’m unwilling to offer advice. Smoke’s a knobhead. _You_ wouldn’t come to me if it wasn’t serious.”

A sigh. “There lies the crux of the matter. I don’t know if it _is_ .” Oh, so they might be discussing perceived flirting, Blitz’ interpretation of sweet gestures , wishful thinking. That made more sense. H im reading too much into one of Twitch’s open smiles or Ash’s playful comments is a thousand times more likely than any of them actually showing any interest in him. He probably qualifies as handsome yet he absolutely _nails_ the big brother role. Sledge suspects that Blitz would rather inadvertently play wingman for someone else than flirt successfully. But yes, if this is about something Blitz imagined, it’s significantly easier to - “I kissed Rook last night.”

Well.

Never mind that.

“You did what now?”, Sledge asks before he can help himself. He tries and fails to picture it. Maybe he misheard.

By now, Blitz’ cheeks are tinted red and that is a _terrible_ sign. Sledge has never seen him blush – no, there was the one time Ash made that joke about his little Blitz flashing her. So… he’s seen him blush _once_. “Or maybe he kissed me, I don’t really know. But we kissed. It was nice. Now tell me I’m an idiot or something.”

Despite the fact Sledge is stunned into silence, his hands keep working, he deposits the inordinate amount of sausages into the heated pan and steps out of the way for Blitz to start frying up the thickly cut bacon. There’s no doubt Rook has all the potential for being a heartthrob: looks, personality and charisma, but he would’ve thought Blitz immune to all of it. Yet here they are. There is another issue – never before has he gotten the impression Blitz might be interested in men. _Yet here they are_. “Walk me through this, mate”, he requests with furrowed brows.

“Alright”, Blitz agrees reluctantly and keeps his hands busy, his eyes downcast. “We went to watch a film yesterday evening, him and me. Smoke and Mute were supposed to join us but something came up, so it was only us. It was… really pleasant, you know? We grabbed a couple of drinks and he accompanied me back to the flat where we got stuck talking outside. And then it just happened. It came out of nowhere. One moment, we were laughing about something and the next – why are you looking at me like that?”

With every word, Sledge’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Out of _nowhere_ ”, he repeats neutrally. To be frank, this explains a few of the observations Sledge has made over the past weeks, one of them being that Rook has dialled down his flirty teasing that colours a lot of his interactions. Also why he was around suspiciously often when the attackers were training.

The implication isn’t lost on Blitz who suddenly returns his gaze like a deer in headlights. “Do you – do you think he _intended_ -”

Sledge very much thinks Rook _intended_. He looks over to said Frenchman who’s goofing around with Sledge’s teammates, giggling and quickly averting his eyes when Sledge catches him glancing at Blitz. Oh yes. He intended. Convincing the two SAS nerds not to show up couldn’t have been difficult.

“Were we on a date?”, Blitz asks himself quietly, seemingly mortified at the realisation, piling up more and more bacon on a plate he then covers with the lid Sledge hands him.

“Look, mate, what exactly are you asking me?” Sledge stirs the beans, flips the sausages and grinds some pepper over the mushroom quarters Blitz just added to the smaller pan before turning to him. The German is decidedly embarrassed and refuses to respond and Sledge gets it. Sometimes, he forgets not everyone is as unbothered as him when it comes to these things, though it comes as no surprise Blitz is panicking. “You got your knickers in a twist because he’s a man, eh?”

Blitz jolts and almost launches half the mushrooms. Bullseye. “I just – I don’t know if”, he stammers and fumbles with the bread packaging until Sledge takes mercy on him and opens it to pop some slices into the toaster. “I don’t want to lead him on, and yes, I’m _aware_ that making out with him probably doesn’t help with that, now I don’t know – I don’t want to hurt his feelings and -”

Oh. _Oh_ . So that’s what he’s getting at. The whole thing must’ve messed with his head because Blitz normally refuses to dance around the issue like this. The detail that he now calls it _making out_ instead of _kissing_ like before is not lost on Sledge. “Basically you want to sink the ship before it leaves the harbour”, he puts what Blitz is carefully avoiding into blunt words and adds the tomatoes to Blitz’ pan. “And you want me to tell you how to not crush Rook’s heart along the way.”

A long pause during which they keep moving around each other expertly, making more toast, putting some plates in the oven to heat them up, ensuring nothing burns. Sledge relishes the company, his teammates are often too lazy to help and Blitz is reading his mind without even realising, requiring neither a pointed look nor any other indication, fills the space around the Scotsman effortlessly. It reminds him of how well they work together during missions, too, their determined personalities surprisingly harmonising, balancing out each others’ shortcomings.

“You two get along well.” It’s not a question. Even leaving aside the fact that Rook’s bubbly personality resonates with almost everyone in Rainbow, Blitz on various occasions has cheered up the young Frenchman, imbuing him with motivation, purpose and confidence. “And you like him. I’d even wager you’re attracted because I don’t see you willingly snogging any of the other blokes here.”

Blitz mulls his words over and cracks a few eggs into the pan as Sledge turns off the heat. “So, what you’re saying is”, he murmurs and keeps his face carefully blank, “I should give it a shot.”

Before they start dividing up the different ingredients on the warm plates, Sledge takes a good look around the bustling canteen, his attention caught by Bandit and Jäger bickering and kicking each other under the table as well as a madly grinning Smoke who apparently set himself on fire on purpose because he’s still, well, smoking and Mute next to him is crying with laughter. Blitz is handling these unforeseen circumstances remarkably well and out of everyone Sledge knows, he might be the only one with a realistic chance at a normal, healthy relationship.

“Yes”, he finally decides and squeezes Blitz’ shoulder supportively when his expression slips into helplessness, “but be upfront and honest. Let him know what you’re not comfortable with. Just…” He’s interrupted when, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jäger hitting Bandit in the face with a piece of bread with jam on it that leaves behind bright red, sticky residue. For a moment, both of them seem shocked about this new development, then Jäger jumps up and bolts out of the room whereas Bandit literally _climbs over the table_ to sprint after him, yelling obscenities. Sledge and Blitz share a long-suffering look. “Just communicate. Alright?”

Blitz nods. “I’ll try”, he replies, picks up one of the plates and leaves, looking overwhelmed and unsure.

Internally, Sledge wishes him all the best – Blitz deserves more happiness; even if he’d never admit it, loneliness overcomes him now and then, eating into his confidence and resolve, very slowly chipping away at that foundation necessary for him to function in Rainbow. Sledge knows the signs, the bleak look creeping in people’s eyes sometimes, especially in the morning. He himself rarely feels a burning need for company in the romantic sense, never sought it out actively, sometimes turned it down, picked his partners carefully to avoid disasters. He enjoys his independence though even he can’t help but entertain egoistic flights of fancy now and then, allow for some idealistic fantasies.

“Do you two do this often?”, someone asks him, amazement apparent in their voice.

He turns and finds Twitch staring at him, immediately understands what she means. She must’ve been watching the way Blitz and he have moved around each other almost gracefully, rendering verbal communication redundant. This is one of the main reasons he’s content with the way things are: the understanding between them runs deep, feels intimate like certain friendships just _do_. He offers Twitch a smile and answers truthfully: “No. First time, luv.”

And while she gapes at him, Smoke appears out of nowhere and rubs his cheek on Sledge’s arm like an oversized cat, compliments his cooking skills with an entirely predictable innuendo that has Mute (who of course followed him on his heels) snorting and suddenly Sledge has to defend his bacon from grabby hands, elbow shoving and tackles which leave no time to ponder his conversation with Blitz anymore.

 

There are at least two sides to most stories and where it concerns Blitz’ and Rook’s whirlwind romance, Sledge has the advantage and _honour_ to experience both the public as well as the private one.

Gossip spreads faster than a fire around the base and it takes only three days until even Fuze has realised they’re dating – a combination of Bandit’s remarkable ability to milk Blitz for every last one of his secrets and Tachanka’s big mouth. Admittedly, the fact that Blitz basically stops breathing as soon as Rook is somewhere in a five metre radius is enough of a giveaway by itself, his pink ears whenever they converse not even a necessary characteristic anymore. He’s eye-wateringly obvious and Rook observes his aimless flailing with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. They don’t ever touch which comes as no surprise seeing as Blitz is so tightly strung he might explode or unravel completely if Rook so much as brushed his hand in the presence of others.

This is the delightful version everyone in Rainbow has the chance to witness and some people even try to actively cause by forcing them to interact. The private one is even _worse_.

Sledge has to repeatedly tell himself he has no regrets. Though Blitz did trip violently and fall head over heels several times over, Rook was indeed there to catch him – the nightmares have decreased and his quality of life skyrocketed, the semi-permanent smile plastered on his face attesting to this. No, it’s really not about Blitz himself. It’s more about the fact he’s not floating on cloud nine but rather flapping his arms frantically, fearing the fall, expecting to plummet any second now. Because whom does he approach for advice?

When it comes down to it, it’s no trouble. Actually, it’s nice to have him around so often; they perform their tasks together, perfectly in sync and complementing each other where it counts, be it cleaning their guns, training in the gym or preparing for a relaxing evening off duty. Sledge appreciates the blind trust with which Blitz confides in him, how more and more inhibitions fall away and his genuine concerns are stripped of any misplaced modesty and shame, allowing Sledge to accurately pinpoint his troubles and offer solutions. No, it’s not that he minds discussing Blitz’ worries. It’s just.

Most of them are _inane_.

“What if he wants me to introduce him to my family?”, Blitz asks three weeks into their relationship, pale at the horror of possibly having to come out, disregarding the fact that he has a say in the matter as well. Though Sledge assumes that with how smitten the German is, he has no other choice but oblige anything and everything his lover asks of him. He feels it’s necessary to mention being together with a man doesn’t make Blitz gay which prompts as series of unanswerable questions for which Sledge blames himself.

“If we go out for dinner, do I always pay for him or is that somehow demeaning?”, he wants to know early on because apparently he takes the dating aspect extremely seriously, drags Rook out for long walks and romantic meals and _clothes shopping_ and Sledge’s iron composure fails at that last one and he wheezes half over Blitz’ annoyed pout and half over the image of Rook bemusedly trying on different coloured shirts, waiting for Blitz to tell him which ones make his eyes pop. It’s the first and only time he openly laughs at the hapless fool in love Blitz has become and neither of them speak of going shopping ever again.

“He’s done it so many times for me and I really want to reciprocate, but I don’t know how to give a… _blow job_ ”, is how Blitz commences his newest line of inquiries about a month in. The way he lowers his voice conspiratorially on the last two words even though they’re completely alone in Blitz’ flat makes Sledge quietly commend Rook on his infinite patience. He doesn’t doubt the Frenchman has to basically coerce every bit of experimentation in the bedroom out of his lover and he can imagine how exhausting it must be, so he sighs and gives Blitz the speech about no teeth, going slow until he’s used to the feeling, not neglecting the balls and so on. It’s weirdly satisfying to observe how much merely _talking_ about it makes Blitz squirm – though to his credit, he is listening intently.

“I have no idea how to talk dirty”, he laments a while later when Sledge not only has a pretty good idea of what Rook’s dick looks like but also when, where and how often they have sex. He’s resigned himself to his fate though there _is_ a line and this comes dangerously close to crossing it.

“This is really something you should bring up with him and not me”, Sledge states and, when Blitz looks ready to object, adds: “What, do you want to practise on me? Or for me to demonstrate?”

His friend is _scandalised_. “No, you – no, I didn’t mean -”

And Sledge switches topics because it’s actually starting to get to him. A little. Not only Blitz, Mute has also begun to describe all of Smoke’s assets in detail and remains stubbornly deaf to Sledge’s insistent pleas to tell said SAS operator instead of _him_. He’s surrounded by sexually charged people and forced to discuss other people’s love lives at length and his languid wanking sessions have become not only more frequent but also more frantic. He might have to start looking for options soon though the thought doesn’t appeal to him – the last thing he needs in his life right now are complications at his workplace, the second-to-last is bringing a civilian into this.

 

Since then, Blitz has abstained from that particular subject, much to Sledge’s relief, though apparently this spawned unforeseen side effects. He’s wrangling his two troublemaker teammates away from his breakfast one morning, slapping greedy hands away and trying to stop the two from physically sliding in between him and the stove to burn their fingers on the bacon they steal right out of the pan. Only after they’ve disappears does he notice Rook leaning against the counter next to him, arms crossed and an amused smile on his lips. “Do you have a minute?”, he wants to know politely and all Sledge can think is: _Not another one_. Because if Rook joins the line of people asking for advice in the bedroom, Sledge is going to consider retirement.

“Sure”, he responds. “What’s up?”

“I know you’ve been … guiding Blitz along the way and it was probably a catastrophe. So I want to thank you for your sacrifice.” They share a good-natured grin and Sledge is relieved to hear not only that Blitz has been honest about their talks but also that Rook doesn’t seem to mind. He would hate to have intruded somehow, even if he never initiated these kinds of conversations. “But there’s something else.”

He nods encouragingly. Rook has never asked him for a favour so far and he’s been nothing short of wonderful to Blitz as far as he knows, so he’s willing to help in whatever way possible.

“You can probably imagine he’s not very experimental.” Another nod. “Especially recently, he’s been… uncooperative, he stopped talking about it with you, right? I wanted to know if you would lend a hand. So to speak. You’d get something out of it, too.”

Sledge’s eyebrows lift a fraction. He’s not sure whether he minds the direction this is taking. “Go on.” And the longer he listens, the gladder he gets to not have turned Rook away.

 

“Is anyone else hungry?”, Blitz, ever the gracious host, asks as soon as they’ve crossed the threshold to his flat, Rook stumbling slightly and Sledge still steady on his feet despite the comfortable buzz obfuscating his mind. It’s not too late and the three of them are not too drunk, it’s the perfect opportunity – so advantageous, in fact, that Sledge assumes it’s orchestrated carefully. The sly glance Rook throws him confirms his suspicions and he nods almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to feed everyone who sets foot in your home”, Sledge informs the German while toeing off his shoes, “I swear, you’d try to stuff the postie’s pockets with candy if they’d let you.”

“I’m hungry”, Rook purrs and drapes himself over his lover, mouthing at his ear, “you can feed _me_.”

While Blitz struggles to escape his grasp, Sledge invites himself in, enters the large room that serves both as a kitchen and a living room and helps himself to some of the Talisker he brought over the other day. He’s terrified Rook will attempt to mix it with coke so he’d rather drink the whole bottle himself in small increments every time he’s over than let it fall into the Frenchman’s claws. The two are still wrestling with each other when they follow him, collapse on the couch as he cautiously adds a few drops of still water to the amber liquid and breathes in the peated aroma that fills his nostrils.

He’s actually looking forward to this.

He walks back, moves the comfy armchair he usually occupies to face the sofa, sinks into the cushions and takes a sip of the whisky. It’s lovely and sweet the moment it touches his tongue, smooth almost like caramel and leaves behind a rich, smoky flavour. Blitz is attempting to pry Rook’s hands off his body and mostly failing, looking more and more frustrated whereas Rook seems unable to wipe the knowing smile off his own face. “Rook, please”, the German finally says and there’s a hint of irritation in his voice, “cut it out. We can watch a film and cuddle if you want.”

Unsurprisingly, he’s more inclined to show his affection around Sledge than with other people, probably because he’s told the Scotsman about how he had tears in his eyes the first time he blew Rook and still made him come so hard Blitz choked on it. It would be weirder if he _were_ squeamish about caresses in Sledge’s presence. Rook apparently interprets his words as a signal, swings one of his legs over Blitz’ and straddles him before enunciating very clearly: “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. I’m going to fuck you and Sledge is going to watch.”

The bluntness of his declaration together with the anticipation cause some of Sledge’s blood to rush south even if they haven’t even started yet. He enjoys the way Blitz’ eyes widen in shock and incredulity and then snap to him for confirmation while Rook starts sucking on the side of his neck. Sledge simply nods and takes another sip that tastes like home. “Though I’d rather watch him fuck _you_ ”, he adds politely. He knows Blitz wishes to be more assertive, so why not use this opportunity to help him out a little?

While Blitz is busy gaping at him, Rook turns around with eyes darkened by lust and smirks. “Sure. We can do that.”

“What -” Blitz’ voice breaks and he tries again: “Are you _serious_? No, wait, you can’t -”

“Why don’t you undress first?”, Sledge suggests and feels a rush of excitement at how eagerly Rook complies, climbs off the sofa and pulls his hoodie over his head, makes his t-shirt follow right away and gets started on his belt, all the while regarding Blitz with thinly-veiled hunger. Sledge has to admit Rook is lush, his torso and arms slimmer than Blitz’ but with strong legs and thick thighs – besides, the confident way he carries himself is attractive already, the way he unselfconsciously displays his body.

“No, we can’t do this.” Blitz keeps protesting yet stays where he is, eyes glued to his increasingly unclothed lover and panic visible in his face. “Rook, this – _I_ can’t do this. Why do you -”

When the Frenchman hesitates in his underwear, Sledge tells him: “ _All_ the way.” So Rook grins, hooks his thumbs into his briefs and pulls them down as well, adds them to the pile next to his feet and there it is. The fabled dick of which Sledge hasn’t heard the end, already more than half hard. He’s genuinely surprised it doesn’t sparkle or shoot fireworks, the way Blitz described it.

Said German suddenly finds himself with a lapful of a naked Rook and is visibly overwhelmed with the entire situation, even more so when he’s being told “we can and we _will_ ” and then kissed passionately, Rook making sure he puts on a show, keeps the angle the same for Sledge’s benefit, lets him see lots of tongue and wet lips sliding over each other and even throws in the occasional moan. It’s a lovely sight, made even better by the fact that Blitz looks ready to die of mortification. Somehow, it’s vindicating to see him like this, hands almost hovering over Rook’s skin, futilely trying to turn his head away yet obviously affected by the hot kisses, cheeks red. Rook unbuttons his shirt as an afterthought, pushes it out of the way and lets his hands roam over the exposed chest, brushing over Blitz’ nipples, making him jump.

Sledge’s gaze wanders over Rook’s gainly legs and his plump backside, Blitz’ scrunched up face and his strong jaw and while he knows he’s not attracted to either of them, as a pair they’re indubitably mesmerising, a vortex of love and lust and mutual respect that sucks in every bystander mercilessly, rendering them breathless. He relaxes in the armchair and lazily palms his growing erection, keeping the touch light. He’s in for a treat and he’s not going to ruin it by being impatient.

Finally, Blitz manages to break free (though Sledge doubts he was trying very hard before) and opens his mouth, likely to complain yet again, so Rook grabs his crotch with practised precision and causes his lover’s mouth to open even more, makes him look down at the hand massaging him in disbelief. Sledge believes he’s also holding his breath. “You’ve never been this hard, darling”, Rook states with a cheeky grin, “you’re _so_ loving this, admit it.” With that, he bends down and laps at one of Blitz’ nipples, makes him shiver and gasp and bury a hand in his wavy hair.

“Why don’t you work on getting him ready, mate?” As Sledge reaches into the cushions and pulls out a small bottle of lube without breaking eye contact with Blitz, he can see the betrayal creep into his expression at the extremely belated realisation.

“You’re _in on this_ ”, he says accusingly and refuses to take the proffered bottle, so instead Rook reaches out and accepts it with an appreciative wink.

“No, actually, this sort of thing happens to me all the time”, Sledge retorts pleasantly and the Frenchman snorts, breaks out into genuine laughter at the sheepish moue on Blitz’ face and kisses it away gently before squirting some of the viscous liquid onto his lover’s palm, clearly not keen on wasting any time. “Get started, then.”

Blitz is still hesitating, clearly torn between giving in to the pleasure and allowing his modesty to win, so Rook unceremoniously unzips his jeans and frees his erection that quite obviously has fewer ambiguous feelings about the entire thing. His fingers slide over Blitz’, gathering up some of the gel, and wrap around the head of his dick, his body moving back a bit so Sledge can watch the way he teases it, massaging it slowly and making the muscles in Blitz’ abdomen flutter, him gasp and push up his hips slightly. His reservations are waning, Sledge sees them drain away under Rook’s expert touches and it’s unexpectedly arousing to witness his friend’s resolve crumble due to nothing but physical stimulation.

Finally, Blitz gets with the program and rubs the lube between his fingers, reaches around Rook’s naked torso and touches them to his hole, making his lover cant his hips in anticipation. “Are you sure?”, he _still_ wants to know, throws Sledge a slightly uneasy look. His answer is a searing kiss that has everything, Rook licking into his mouth, Blitz panting as the grip around his cock tightens, his head tilting back and his body straining towards Rook’s, both of them clearly enjoying themselves, getting lost in the familiar sensation, in each other. It feels like the first glimpse into how they are on their own, devoted and infatuated and perfect and Sledge thinks: _I helped with this. I had a hand in this_. And he can’t do anything against the pride that flares up in him for a second.

When the first finger pushes in, Sledge begins teasing his own tip through the fabric, feeling the ridge leading to his hard shaft and the twitch the first time Rook sharply sucks air in through his teeth. The two are quickly becoming sluggish in their lustful haze, forgetting their surroundings while panting into each others’ mouths, Rook’s hand now cupping both their dicks together as Blitz opens him up, works him open gingerly, ever so careful and even adding more lube before he inserts the second finger. They’re a sight for the Gods, sinful, filthy and delicious.

Rook breaks their wet kisses and glances over his shoulder, his smirk just a tad unsteady. “Don’t just watch. Get your cock out.” Sledge doesn’t need to be told twice, undoes his trousers and pulls his length out, the cooler air titillating on the heated skin and the realisation that they’re _really_ doing this a thrill of its own. His touches stay teasing, he drags the foreskin down and exposes the dark head, runs his thumb over it, the slight friction barely enough to stimulate. Rook murmurs into the side of Blitz’ neck: “Look at him, darling, he’s enjoying the show.” And Blitz _is_ looking at him, staring, in fact, so distracted for a moment that he stops moving his hand and only then does Rook risk another glance . His brows lift, impressed and incredulous . “ _Wow_. I feel a little sorry for all your past and future partners.”

Sledge’s lips curl into a smile. “Shut up and get on with it”, he replies, amused, “crook your fingers, Blitz.” Rook sits up a little straighter when Blitz complies, throws the Scotsman a warning glare that does nothing to deter him. “A little lower. Do it again. That’s it, keep rubbing.”

Now Rook’s arching his back, has to move his hands to Blitz’ shoulders so as to not lose balance, his groans of passion growing louder with every second while his lover strokes him deep inside, stares up at him raptly, eyes wide and filled with wonder, the love in them unmistakable. Amazed, Blitz continues, biting his lip helplessly as he’s unable to tear his gaze away from the shuddering mess to which he’s slowly reducing the Frenchman on his lap. They’ve passed the threshold now, there’s no going back since Blitz is obviously comfortable with the situation and Rook is pawing at him absent-mindedly, cursing under his breath and starting to grind his hips against the intrusion and the sight is so erotic Sledge can taste it on his tongue, in his throat, lets his hand glide over his long shaft languorously, drinking in the two lovers in front of him.

Suddenly, Rook has had enough and pushes Blitz’ arm away, manhandling him into a horizontal position on the couch, wrestling with his jeans and his underwear. Together, they somehow manage to push both below his knees where they get hopelessly entangled. They’re impatient now, their faces reddened, their breaths deep and their hands insistent. Rook lubes up Blitz’ silky-looking, rock hard dick and shoves one of his own legs between the German’s body and the sofa cushions, straddling his lower half again, ready to ride him until they both come undone. They share another fiery kiss, then Rook turns to Sledge again. “This position to your liking?”

His tone is mocking but Sledge has no doubt they’d switch if he requested it. The amount of control they allow him is astonishing and his heartbeat speeds up at the excitement. He manages to keep it out of his voice as he responds: “Rook, sit up. Take him all in.” The Frenchman obeys willingly and his eyes hood while he sinks down onto the cock that’s standing at attention for him, Blitz’ hands first caressing his sides, then holding on to his muscled thighs as Rook swallows him up, his insides accommodating him. Sledge allows them a moment to adjust, notices with satisfaction how Rook’s eyes are shut and Blitz is vibrating with the desire for _more_. “Lift back up a little. Like that. Don’t move anymore, you hear? Not at all.”

Rook understands and nods with a wide grin, stays where he is, looming over his lover whose chin he brushes softly in a small gesture that speaks of so much affection and familiarity. “Okay, darling”, he tells Blitz who seems mesmerised by his entirety, “fuck me. Do it hard, and do it good. Alright?”

A strangled sound escapes Blitz’ throat and his hips snap up, causing Rook to wobble momentarily from being filled so suddenly and this is the moment where Sledge starts stroking himself in earnest. With practised motions, he drags the foreskin over his sensitive glans, spreads his legs further and watches as Blitz grips his lover’s hipbones so he can thrust up into his inviting body, breaching him again and again with sharp movements. This is much better than any of Sledge’s daydreams, most of all because it’s _real_ , there’s no doubt these two are stupidly in love with each other and trust with their lives; the fact that they’re inviting him to witness how they give up control, succumb to ecstasy makes it even more electrifying.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156375843@N06/39427845875/in/photostream/)

His strokes become faster, not yet mimicking the quick pace Blitz is making every effort to keep up, knees bent for more leverage for his thrusts while Rook struggles to stay upright, his face slack in bliss, his arms seeking support on one of Blitz’ raised thighs and the back of the sofa. The Frenchman adjusts the angle and _quivers_ , moans shakily. The muscles under his skin dance, the tendons in his legs stand out and his back is a beautiful concave line while Blitz fucks him like a young God, reaching deep inside and leaving him barely any time to breathe, producing noises that are nothing short of filthy. Sledge wouldn’t have expected him to surrender wholly to his lust so he takes it as a testament of how heavenly Rook must feel and how much they are at ease with each other.

Pleasure is pooling low in his belly now, building up, he’s affected more and more by the aphrodisiac sight. His grip around his girth tightens and his toes curl in response, he barely notices the tenseness in his own body, so enthralled and captivated is he. His tempo is the same as Blitz’ now, unforgiving, merciless, and his other hand reaches down to fondle his testicles, adding even more to the stimulation that already threatens to overwhelm him. It’s getting to him, won’t be long now. “Touch him”, he orders from between clenched teeth and inhales deeply as the burning, piercing gazes belonging to the two joined bodies graze him for a moment, heat up his skin.

Blitz lets go of Rook’s hips with one hand, leaving behind visible marks, and reaches up. His rhythm falters as Rook eagerly licks broad stripes over his palm, sucks on his fingers, his tongue darting in between them, the sensations distracting Blitz enough so he grinds into his lover instead, causing him to moan around his fingers. When Blitz wraps his hand around Rook’s leaking cock, his pupils are blown wide and his breaths shallow. Sledge is starting to sweat now, the room has heated up significantly or maybe it’s just the fact that Rook throws his head back with a throaty moan as soon as Blitz slams into him again.

The German’s movements are frantic now and Sledge’s mirror them though he’s switched to jerking only his shaft, limiting himself to almost teasing levels of stimulation while Blitz seems to have no such qualms, pumping Rook with abandon and continuing to thrust up into him. “Fuck, _oh fuck_ , are you close?”, Rook grits out in between gasps, looks over and Sledge can only nod. The Frenchman sinks down onto Blitz, giving up his uncomfortable perch in favour of being able to roll his hips in turns onto Blitz’ cock and into his fist, chasing his own climax with abandon, with loud curses and equally as loud groans.

Sledge watches Rook tense up as he’s pushed over the edge, digging his fingernails into Blitz’ side and ejaculating all over his chest in thick spurts, moaning and squirming as Blitz milks and continues to fuck him through it with shallow thrusts. He’s so far gone in his pleasure that all Sledge can do is observe him raptly, the changes in his expression as tremors ripple through his body. Sledge speeds up his own strokes, allows his hand to glide over his head again, spreading the precum over it for an even smoother slide, adapts to Blitz’ short movements and sees how the German’s eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of Rook orgasming around him, probably clenching down and making his passage even tighter.

He’s so close now, his balls are drawing up and in a rare lucid moment, he has the presence of mind to pull up his shirt before he ruins it. Blitz also seems a hair’s breadth away from climaxing and so it’s enough when Rook, visibly more relaxed than before though still out of breath, leans down, licks at the corner of his mouth, lays his gaze on Sledge and says: “It’s okay. You can come now.”

So they do.

Sledge’s orgasm is an immense relief, floods his system with pleasure and more pleasure, feels like the best kind of reward. In front of him, Blitz growls and drags Rook down on his dick repeatedly while they kiss sloppily but almost all of Sledge’s attention is focused on the bliss, the elation coursing through his veins, making him gush come all over his hand and abdomen. His eyes shut by themselves and he concentrates on the warm feeling, his pounding heart, the knowledge that this was partly for _him_. While the aftershocks are subsiding, he works on calming his breathing and relaxing his limbs.

A chuckle catches his attention and when he opens his eyes again, Rook is still sitting on a now decidedly mortified looking Blitz and snickering quietly, trying to push away the arm his lover has placed over his beet red face. “You big baby, don’t be embarrassed _now_ ”, Rook scolds him gently and peppers the offending arm with kisses.

“Why did I do this”, Blitz mumbles and adds, a little louder, obviously meant for Sledge’s ears: “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can look you in the eyes ever again.”

“I’m sure you will. You’re such good friends you even came at the same time.” Rook just snorts at the pained groan this comment earns him. “Come on. Don’t be like this.”

With trepidation, Blitz uncovers his face and slowly turns to look at Sledge, his fearful expression nearly causing the Scotsman to laugh. “I see you implemented all the advice I gave you”, he tells him instead with a friendly nod, “well done.”

“Oh my _God_ ”, says Blitz and slaps his hands over his face. The whole incident has proven excellent material for making Blitz cringe in embarrassment in the future, a source that Sledge will gladly exploit if it means he won’t have to discuss their love life in great detail anymore. Despite the cooling sperm on his skin, he’s loose and content, comfortable in the presence of these two and the realisation is encouraging. He knows now that he was never at risk of possibly losing Blitz to someone else but rather about to gain another friend.

Rook flashes him a bright smile and mouths _thank you_ at him, obviously pleased with the outcome. Sledge winks back good-naturedly and takes the last sip of the Talisker, relishing the full-bodied taste and idly wondering if this will get a repeat performance.

 

After two days, the flaw in his plan registers.

Most of the consequences are delightful and he genuinely doesn’t regret agreeing to Rook’s proposal – the two are happier than ever and somehow, Blitz has gained enough confidence so he doesn’t implode if Rook touches him in the presence of others. Sledge and Rook bond over the weirdest things and win a heated argument about which James Bond is the best one and Blitz has stopped asking things like whether Rook would enjoy rosemary scented body wash. Overall, it’s extremely nice.

One problem remains. Sledge has tasted blood now.

Seeing the two lovebirds together has sparked a desire for companionship in him that he thought he had under control. Envy rears its ugly head and it doesn’t help that there’s no one who can advise him on this because there’s nothing _to_ advise. Either he waits until it subsides or … or what? Visits a local pub? He loathes the thought , he wishes to connect with someone on a level deeper than purely physical and that’s virtually impossible with a total stranger. He wants to be comfortable in their presence, used to their habits, a lover _and_ a friend.

For the moment, he quells his frustration by cooking breakfast, as usual. This time, the two thieves have been there from the start, hovering and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As much as he enjoys their company, Sledge is tired of their bullshit and _this_ close to yelling at them to either help or fuck off entirely. He’s not even sure why he still bothers to feed them.

“Did you hear? Bandit accidentally destroyed one of Jäger’s projects”, Smoke states conversationally while edging closer to the stove until Sledge swats at him.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen him look this _remorseful_ ”, Mute replies, impressed.

Curious, Sledge looks for the Germans in the canteen and has to admit: Bandit _does_ look contrite, though maybe only because Jäger is sitting next to him and drilling into him with a death glare that’s hard to ignore. When he turns back, Mute’s hand is _almost_ under the lid with the fried bacon. Fed up, he grabs his young teammate by the collar, slams him against the fridge and snarls in his face: “If any of you mess with my breakfast _one more time_ , I’m going to fuck you into next week!”

Shocked silence. It includes Sledge himself.

He didn’t – he didn’t mean to say _that_ , it kind of slipped out and he’ll probably never live it down, except if the two interpret it as the threat it was _meant_ to be and not the sexually charged… whatever that came out of his mouth. Inwardly, he curses Blitz and Rook for planting the seed in his head and he retroactively apologises to everyone whom he contradicted on the existence of Freudian slips.

Mute is staring at him with wide eyes and an aghast expression, clearly at a loss for words but what catches Sledge’s attention instead is movement in his peripheral vision. He turns his head and is met with Smoke’s similarly stunned gaze. At the same time, he’s _very slowly_ pushing one of the plates on which most of the ingredients are already assembled towards the edge of the counter. Sledge stares at him, unmoving.

He won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll do it.

He’s absolutely convinced of this up to the point where, almost in slow motion, the plate tips over and then crashes onto the floor, breaking with a loud noise that echoes in the large room, spreading food all over the tiles. They stare at each other for a few seconds longer.

Then Sledge looks back at Mute whom he’s still crowding against the fridge and the young man is biting his lip now, no concern in his expression anymore, instead there’s something else entirely and Sledge is acutely aware of their legs touching, of how close they’re standing. The air feels charged and he belatedly realises that both of them have been right all along. They’re both very attractive.

To hell with it.

“My room. Now. We’ll deal with this mess later”, he tells them because breakfast really can wait.

Mute’s face lights up and Smoke hisses: “I _told_ you he’d fucking do it eventually!”

And while they’re leaving the canteen, Smoke puts an arm around Mute’s waist in a gesture that’s entirely possessive and Sledge wonders. He _wonders_. About all the times they came to him on their own, pining after each other. About how comfortable they are in each other’s presence. About how much was actually going on behind the scenes that he completely missed.

About how long these two have been playing him.

And he realises yet again: As soon as attraction and affection are involved, people tend to become blind.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the art goes to [Mi723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mi723) who gives me life and an endless stream of new ideas.


End file.
